Downer

I needed a downer.  My body had ratcheted into code red, defenses up against the yearly assault from the tulips on the poplar tree, all systems working full-tilt to expel the enemy.  Sneezing, wheezing, itching, weeping.  One antihistamine dose and a 10-hour night of sleep later, I’m sitting in this fuzzy bubble of calm.  My arms and legs feel like they belong to a gorilla, and it just doesn’t seem worth the effort to drag my body around from place to place.  The world is coming at me through a veil this morning.  But oh, the relief.  I haven’t sneezed once yet today.

I try to tend to the allergies with nettle and plantain tea, mostly.  But every once in a while, my body panics and assumes that the poplar tree is out to kill me.  Then I need a little something else to calm it down so I can get on with my life.  Thing is, I am in love with that blooming tree that brings my oriole here each spring, that opens green buds to reveal their tangerine hearts.  Dangerous beauty.

 

Gratitude List:
1. Beauty all around
2. Honey Locust trees in bloom–honey vanilla scent hovering about
3. Sleep
4. Rites of Passage and Blessing: pre-school graduation
5. Plan B

May we walk in Beauty!

4 thoughts on “Downer

  1. Your tree is that ever-present paradox of life — how something that meets one need (beauty, meaning, shade, fresh air) can at the seem time keep you from meeting another need (breathing, sleeping, feeling human).

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    • Yes! Thank you for that extension. And if I get so caught up in the polarities–that it must be either beautiful or dangerous–then I live in a position of either victimization or of resentment. Of the person or the tree. . . Or the situation, perhaps.

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